


Smile More

by TwinVax



Series: Critrole Stories [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas gift, Secret Santa, critmas gift, have some Scanlan introspective, secret santa gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinVax/pseuds/TwinVax
Summary: Scanlan didn’t care about people all that much after his mother was murdered by goblins. If someone had asked him before about what he thought of people, the response would have been that he didn’t care. He didn't give a shit about people because he stopped caring about what happened to him sometime after he lost the only person in his life that mattered to him.
For enderon Who asked for some Scanlan introspective on how he feels about things.
I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enderon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enderon/gifts).



Scanlan didn’t care about people all that much after his mother was murdered by goblins. No one else had really done anything besides give him condolences and stick him in an orphanage. He hadn’t even known his own father. Not like he ever wanted to, after his mother told Scanlan the man had left one day while he was a baby.

So yeah, if someone had asked him before about what he thought of people, the response would have been that he didn’t care. He didn't give a shit about people because he stopped caring about what happened to him sometime after he lost the only person in his life that mattered to him.

He was a small gnome, in a world much to big for him. With people who were bigger and stronger then he ever could be. A little boy who lost his mother to soon and didn’t belong anywhere with not even a father to give a shit about him. He internalized the hurt the world gave him, until shit stopped mattering to him. Until the size of other people or what they thought of him was inconsequential. Until his own size no longer mattered because for all he cared, he was a giant.

Nothing mattered to him unless it was entertaining, and if it wasn’t, he didn’t care about it.

The world couldn’t get to him if he didn’t want it to.

The lifestyle of a bard interested him greatly. He had a flute his mother had given him as a present once, so he knew how to perform. She had always encouraged his singing and thought he would make a good bard. It was obvious he would pursue that path, so he did.

At first it was a way to honor her. As he got older and the years went on though, it was less about remembering her and more a way to hide and protect himself with words and song. He kept himself hidden from other people even while being the center of attention.

How could he ever grieve if there wasn’t any reason for it? It didn’t matter, he had nothing to get over. He was fine, he liked his lifestyle.

Even when he joined the traveling troupe, he didn’t really care about them as much as they did for him. They were a way for him to get coin and food. It was easier to travel when you walked with a half orc. More fun to have with people when he could pay them, or have a one night stand and leave before the random woman he chose got too attached.

It was fascinating to him that a person could get attached so quickly or care about something so unimportant. It scared him, if he were honest, and he didn’t want to stay long; he escaped quickly once he was done. He didn’t want to let anyone be close to him that would force him to start caring.

He knew consequences didn’t apply to him, he was the best bard in the troupe and no one tried to shit on him for his size. So yes, he killed like three drummers.

It wasn’t a big deal. The troupe moved on quickly enough and replaced them, even if Dr. Dranzel was put out by it.

He respected the good doctor. He liked his methods and the way the troupe taught him to swindle and lie to people. He knew Dranzel took a liking to him too, how he trusted what he said and took him in as the troupes flautist when he was only a kid wandering around. Yeah, he liked the doctor just fine, but he wouldn’t call it caring.

It was harder then he expected to leave the troupe, but he had to get away from them. For a little while at least. Make some gold on his own without being with people he knew. Let the new drummer they recently hired stay alive a little bit longer. That sort of thing. He wasn’t running from anything, he was just interested in doing a different job from the usual.

He lied well enough he could even convince himself of that.  

He hadn’t meant to stay with three half elves, a goliath and a dragonborn for longer then the job detailed. He really hadn’t, It just sort of happened. All of them were young idiots and he kind of felt obligated to keep them from dying because they sucked at basic survival instinct. He didn’t really like the bear much, but if he said anything he was sure one of the twins would stab him. He had a feeling there was a reason Vax (Vex?) was so touchy about it to the point of crazy.

He stayed with the group, even after they had finished the job. He didn’t think about it all that much except to justify his decision by thinking of the party as another troupe. Only instead of singing and stealing, they murdered and stole from people who deserved it.

He named them the SHITS, and was more pleased then he would ever admit that they actually agreed to that. They were all shits collectively, he hadn’t even meant for it to be an acronym.

Things changed, as they do. The group got a little bit bigger within months of first forming.

The first new member was a beautiful gnome woman called Pike, after Grog had disappeared. Scanlan had been a little worried about where he had gone off to, but seeing Pike, a bright, happy, beautiful, _completely perfect_ gnome woman, he wanted to believe they would find him. That Grog would be just fine, that he wouldn’t have to worry for the safety of a person he had started to consider a friend. He wouldn’t call what he had for Pike actual love, but it was close enough, and it was fun to chase.

The last was a young human. He was the one who found him, locked in a jail cell in Stillbend. And odd human who was too quiet and so very _young_. Scanlan was the one who saw Percival de Long Name first, even if it was Vax who unlocked the door. He wasn’t sure what he felt with him either, why he felt protective over a stranger.

He had no idea why he felt so protective of any of them, if he was honest. He just was.

At some point, after they had changed the name to Vox Machina, (Gnomish for Voice Machine because he never denied being a little shit), and they had a few months on their own, he was alone. He was alone long enough to admit to himself that he cared about them. He well and truly cared about all of them. He cared and he wanted to protect that, he didn’t think it mattered if he died for it.

He didn’t have anything to live for, not really, but he had people he cared enough to die for. That was good enough. He could keep them safe.

It hurt when he couldn’t. When he failed to keep his makeshift family of friends from going down or dying. They always came back, because the Gods favored all of them or something, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t ever change that he hadn’t been able to save the people he had let himself care about. That they got hurt instead of him. It was a personal failure that he didn’t let anyone else see.

He couldn’t let anyone see how much everything got to him.

His past caught up to him, more then one way, and his friends met his old Troupe. It was kind of nice, and he could actually admit to himself that he had missed Dr. Dranzel and the rest of them. The twins weren’t that impressed and Keyleth wasn’t all that excited about stealing something, but it was great. He didn’t kill the drummer and he got to impress a new addition to the traveling troupe in a flute duel. It was pleasant.

Then he almost slept with his own _daughter_. A daughter he had no idea about after he ran away from one of the many woman he had slept with. A woman he only vaguely remembered had his daughter, and he almost slept with her.

He was worse than his father. _**Fuck**_.

He almost wished she had killed him, even while simultaneously glad the only pain he suffered was a small cut and a cold empty feeling when she stopped hugging him and ran out on him.

He didn’t sleep well that night, his thoughts were more on the people he had hurt and trying to figure out how he felt. By the time he had actually fallen asleep, he already decided he didn’t want to run from this, from being a father, even if he might be a shit one. He could at least be better then his own, and better late then never at all.

Being better also involved breaking out of _jail_ with your kid, after punching some much stronger people. Who knew. He was proud of her.

He realized he fucked up, somewhere along the way, after he was given Mythcarver and a sword ate Grog. He was devastated, and he knew it was his fault, he had _known_ the sword was evil, but still let his best friend keep it. He let a sword screw over and kill Grog, even if Grog came back and was ok again, it still sucked ass.

Kinda sucked ass way more when Percy died because he couldn’t throw a sword, but he just added that guilt to everything else.

He really wished people would stop dying around him, because it kind of hurt a lot, once he started caring about those assholes. He did his best though, was still doing his best, everyone still lived and they fucked most of the dragons.

He lost his mother, and almost lost himself to his own apathetic detachment, but he did his best. He was doing his best, and he made himself a family in order to keep doing his best.

He promised to keep them safe, because he loved them. They helped an old gnome like him care again, even if the world was shit.

He would do anything he had to in order to keep all of them alive.


End file.
